


Of Cursed Brooches and Herbal Teas

by ArtificialDaydreams



Series: Curses and Apothecaries [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Apothecary Martin, Attempting to write a slow burn, Curses, M/M, Moth Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, My contribution to Moth!Jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29739381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtificialDaydreams/pseuds/ArtificialDaydreams
Summary: “There were a few things that Jon was certain of: he’d somehow turned into a moth, moths were not especially suited to cold weather, and he was now hiding in a basket of herbs whose owner would probably not like finding out they had a stowaway.”After a curse turns him into a moth Jon is taken in by Martin, a local apothecary, who thinks that Jon is... his familiar?
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, eventual - Relationship, martin blackwood & jonathan “jon” sims | the archivist
Series: Curses and Apothecaries [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185746
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Of Cursed Brooches and Herbal Teas

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same AU as “A Hand to Hold While You Fall Asleep.” While it’s not necessary to read that oneshot to understand this fic right now it will become relevant in later chapters. 
> 
> Beta-read by Your Local Eldrich Horror, much thanks for helping me with how to sprinkle in the world building while not just doing exposition!

Cold. It was so cold. The wind threatened to blow him over no matter how much Jon curled in on himself. The chill seeped into him, clouding his mind until the cold was all he could think about. Why was it so cold? Shaking slightly to clear his head Jon tried to remember what he was doing. 

He was... He had been in the Mage’s Quarter, hadn’t he? Yes, he’d been heading back to the University and... and... It was no use. His brain didn’t want to work and his body refused to move, so he just lay there, shaking. Then the cold turned into heat, and suddenly his body felt like it was burning. 

Hypothermia, it had to be. He’d read about it when studying elemental spells, learned to recognize warning signs for if something went wrong. Knowing what was happening did nothing if he was unable to move, or had no clue how he’d gotten in this position in the first place. With a great deal of effort, Jon raised his head the smallest amount, trying to figure out where he was. 

The world seemed too large, buildings towering over him and streetlamps swaying, or maybe that was just because his head was spinning. Suddenly everything went dark and Jon’s heart began to race even faster, then a large... thing moved towards him. It looked like several furry sausages, reaching out for him. Shaking his head he realized it was a hand, a giant, gloved human hand and he instinctively tried to shy away from it, but couldn’t. 

The giant hand floated before him, palm up as though waiting for something to happen, but Jon just stared at it and shivered. He was frozen both from fear and from cold, unable to move if he wanted to. Then a second hand appeared from the darkness and he was pushed, his body scraping against the stones before being scooped into the first palm. As terrified as he was Jon could feel a faint warmth coming from underneath the glove, trickling into him like drops of summer rain, thawing him just a bit.

Then he saw the face of the creature holding him. It was a child, a girl with her hair in pigtails and a tooth missing from her smiling mouth. Her coat was worn, it had been patched in several places and the sleeves seemed too short. She might be the child of a farmer or servant, one of the poorer families that lived in the residential district of Cadweth. She looked him over with wide eyes before speaking, her voice so loud it almost knocked him out of her hands. He caught the words she said though, as his ears rang and his head continued to spin.

“A butterfly!” Jon wasn’t sure what to make of that. He wasn’t a butterfly, he was a human being, and although he knew of mages who were able to transform into animals it certainly wasn’t a spell he knew how to use. He looked down, trying to steady himself, only to see-

They were spindly and covered brownish-red fur, with joints he didn’t understand and strange claws at the ends. They were certainly not hands. Not human hands by any stretch of the imagination. Turning his head he caught sight of a wing, a giant, pale green thing that hovered over him. Trying to fight down the panic clawing its way up his throat he returned his gaze to the not-hands before him, trying to convince himself that they didn’t belong to him.

“Don’t pick up bugs, sweetheart.” Another voice boomed, and the girl frowned. “That’s a moth, not a butterfly. Put it down.” The hands started to separate and Jon’s numb brain tried desperately to come up with a plan. If he actually had been turned into a moth, well he had no idea how to fly, if she dropped him then he could very well die. Glancing around he spotted a basket covered by a blanket, it seemed huge compared to how small he’d become. He had no idea who it was being carried by or where the owner was going, but he dove for it with what little strength he had regained. 

By some miracle he glided a few inches before he started to fall, landing on the blanket. He wriggled to the edge of the basket and climbed inside, where it was mercifully warmer than the street outside. As heat started to seep into Jon’s body he tried to make sense of just what was going on. Making a list seemed like the logical thing to do, and as his brain was still half-frozen it was the only thing he could come up with.

One. Jon had somehow turned into a moth. He had no idea what he looked like beyond pale green wings and strange claw-hands so he wasn’t even sure of that, but it was his best guess. He definitely wasn’t human anymore.

Two. Judging by how dark it was outside it was very late at night. The last thing he could remember was that it had been midday, which meant hours had passed that Jon had no memory of. Judging by the buildings he’d still been in the Mage’s Quarter, so whatever had caused this must have done it rather quickly.

Three. Moths had six legs, which was two more than Jon was used to. Trying to get a sense of his new body he could sense the extra limbs but he had no clue how to move them or how his new joints worked. They felt wrong to him, alien.

Four. Wings. Jon had wings now. He’d dreamed of having wings as a child, of being able to fly. Now that he had them he realized what a foolish wish that was. He didn’t have the slightest idea how to use them. They weren’t exactly heavy, but he was very much aware of their presence. He could feel the air move every time the basket shifted, the blanket where it touched them, apparently they were extremely sensitive.

Five. Moths were not suited to cold weather. At least he wasn’t, Jon couldn’t be sure about other moths. It would probably have killed him if he’d been exposed for much longer. Which led him to-

Six. Jon was now hiding in a basket of what seemed to be herbs, covered by a blanket to ward off the chill. He hadn’t seen who the basket belonged to, he’d just dived in. The owner probably wouldn’t like finding out they had a stowaway. 

He shut his eyes and tried to remember what had happened to him. Had someone cursed him? Had he been practicing a spell that had gone badly wrong? Had he caught some new strain of magical illness? As hard as he strained his memory remained blank. Despite the heat of the basket slowly seeping into his body the fogginess in his head remained.

The basket swayed from side to side, mixed with the calming smell of lavender and the warmth it made Jon’s eyes droop. The shock of discovering he’d become a moth as well as almost freezing to death had worn him out completely. There was no shame in closing his eyes for just a second, right? If moths could even close their eyes, that was.

* * *

“What the?” Someone spoke from above him, their voice loud, but unlike the people before it didn’t make his head hurt. Glancing up he saw a man staring at him, a checkered blanket in one hand. Jon’s stomach dropped. He knew this man, although they’d only met once. 

Martin Blackwood. He was an apothecary, one of the handful of apothecaries in Cadweth, and not a very good one if he treated all his customers the way he’d treated Jon. Just the memory of their meeting made him want to cringe. Of all the people to find him in this state, it had to be Martin Blackwood. 

Reaching into the basket Martin scooped Jon up with one hand, examining him closely. “How did you get in there?” 

Jon didn’t know how to respond. He was not exactly in a position to be asking for help or forgiveness from anyone. The best he could hope for was a painless death.

“Aren’t you a pretty thing?” Wait, Jon looked like a moth right now, Martin might not have any idea just who he was talking to. “Were you looking for food?”

_ “No _ ,” Jon tried to say.  _ “I was just so cold and-.” _ Instead of words, however, all that came out was a small squeak. 

Martin walked to a nearby window and opened it, sticking the hand that held Jon outside. “Out you get, there’s no food for you here.” The night air was still freezing, sending shivers down Jon’s... did he have a spine anymore? He squeaked in a manner he hoped was indignant and didn’t move. “Go on, fly away.” A gust of wind started to push at his wings and, acting on instinct, he leapt into the current and glided to the table on which the basket still rested. 

“Hey!” With a sigh, Martin scooped Jon up again and tried to get him to fly away. “Houses are for people, not moths. I don’t want holes in my clothes.”

_ “I am a person too!” _ Jon squeaked, annoyed that it would be the stupidity of this man that might kill him. He once again glided back into the room, this time scuttling under the blanket that Martin had abandoned. It was foolish to think he’d accomplish anything with this, at most he’d buy a little bit more time. Eventually, the apothecary’s patience would run out, and Jon would be left to freeze in the cold night air.

Lifting up the blanket Martin shot him an annoyed look. “Look. You can’t stay here, alright?” This time, when he was held out the window Jon crawled up Martin’s arm and onto his shoulder. Another gust of wind caused them both to shiver. “Oh... You’re cold, aren't you?”

_ “Yes!” _ Jon would have screamed if he could, but the squeak that came from him seemed to convey his annoyance well enough. Martin closed the window, not taking his eyes off Jon.

“Alright, you can stay here for tonight. Then you have to go outside, wherever your home is.” Martin yawned and set Jon down on the blanket, he burrowed under it, the brief moments of being outside had been enough to chill him thoroughly. It was rather unfair how easily he got cold. 

Still, he was alive. Jon might not have any idea how he’d gotten turned into a moth, or what to do next, but he was alive. He could worry about everything else tomorrow.

* * *

“Oh, you’re awake!” Jon awoke to find a huge face staring at him. He tried backing up only to find himself trapped in something soft, a net maybe? As his eyes focused he was able to remember some of what happened to him, and just who it was talking to him. “I thought you might have died, but I guess you were just sleeping? Or is it hibernating? Might be, since you were out for a week.”

A week? An entire week? Part of him wanted to believe he’d heard Martin wrong. Jon understood that he must have needed to recuperate after nearly freezing to death, not to mention being turned into a moth, but to have slept for a whole week? It was terrifying to have lost that much time, especially since he could have been using it to figure out just what was going on. 

The next thing he noticed was that he hadn’t turned back into a human. Jon had really hoped that given enough time whatever affliction was plaguing him would have gone away. It was disheartening to wake up as a moth, to be so small and helpless, unable to communicate with anyone beyond squeaks. He dimly wondered if anyone from the University noticed he was missing.

Still, the rest had helped, if he was being honest with himself. His head no longer swum and he was able to remember more of what happened before his sudden transformation. He’d been shopping in the Mage’s Quarter, picking up books and spell ingredients. Cadweth was a place for people lucky enough to be gifted with a good deal of innate magic and wealthy enough to afford to attend the Royal University. Or so it was said, as a great deal of the population had neither and instead sold spell books and potions to students or told fortunes under cloth tents. That’s why the Mage’s Quarter existed in the first place, there were so many magical supply shops it made more sense to group them all together.

In hindsight, it had been a very poor decision to purchase anything from Mikale Salesa, who was rumored to sell cursed objects. He’d bought it on a whim, something about the brooch had caught his eye, a luna moth wrought in silver and green enamel. If asked he couldn’t say just what had made him want it, it might have been just to make Salesa shut up about art nouveau. It must have been cursed, because he didn’t remember much after buying the brooch. He’d started to walk back to the University and the next thing he knew was waking up as a moth.

“How are you feeling?” Right. Martin was still here, dressed in a yellow jumper and jeans a, a glance around the room told Jon that he was in the apothecary’s shop. Shelves lined the walls, full of dried herbs, mortars, and books of all shapes and sizes. There were modern items as well, he spotted two electric scales, some measuring cups, and several metal bowls. Jon lay upon what seemed to be the counter, still swaddled in a blanket, although the basket he’d hidden in was nowhere to be seen. “I took some pictures of you while you slept, hope you don’t mind.” Martin held up his phone, as if in explanation.

_ “Can you understand me?” _ Jon squeaked, although he was fairly sure he knew the answer already.

“You look better.” Martin continued speaking, which was confirmation that he had no clue what Jon was saying. “It started snowing a few days ago though, so it’s actually even colder than it was when you, er, arrived. I mean, it is fall so it’s not unheard of, but still...” It turned out that moths couldn’t actually roll their eyes, which was frustrating because that was  _ exactly  _ what Jon wanted to do. “I checked the forecast online and it doesn’t look like it’s going to warm up, I wouldn’t recommend going outside anytime soon.”

_ “Does that mean you won’t cast me out until it’s warmer?” _ With a squeak, he tried to detangle himself from the blanket, which turned out to be harder than anticipated due to the fact he had two extra limbs and wings that he had very little idea how to use. The adrenaline of trying to stay alive had him acting on instinct when Martin had tried to toss him out a window, but now he felt like a toddler learning to walk. It was more than a little humiliating.

“I am curious what you’re doing here, this time of year. Don’t see many moths or butterflies in fall.” Martin returned his attention to whatever he was working on, which seemed to involve putting large quantities of herbs in jars, then pouring olive oil, or so he guessed by the labels, on top until the jars were full. Jon was intrigued, he knew the basics of what apothecaries did due to working at the University, but he’d never found it as interesting compared to spell theory and composition. 

Looking around the shop again he realized just how complex it must be. The apothecary’s movements were precise in a manner that suggested he’d done whatever it was he was doing a thousand times and Jon couldn’t help being intrigued. It had nothing to do with Martin though, he was an academic. It would be foolish to not take advantage of an opportunity to learn, even if it was from a subpar source.

Concentrating hard he managed to move one leg, then another; it felt like he was both puppet and puppeteer, controlling a body that wasn’t his, and yet he could feel his muscles strain. Slowly, centimeter by grueling centimeter, he made his way off the blanket and onto the counter. Glancing up from his work Martin noticed that Jon had managed to crawl in front of him. “Oh, hello there. Come to get a closer look?”

Jon nodded once, or he hoped he nodded anyways. “Well, um, I’m making infused oils. I can use them for things like salves, lotion, soaps... They’re really useful.” Martin started to screw the lids on the jars, shaking each one vigorously before placing them on the windowsill behind him. Then he laughed. “Not sure why I’m telling you about this, guess it’s just nice to have someone to talk to. It gets a bit lonely, especially now that my tea-” his voice cracked. “Now that it’s just me.”

Martin’s expression was crestfallen. He ran a hand over the book lying next to him on the counter, tracing his fingers over the drawing of a flower. Then he shook his head, as though trying to clear his head. “I have to make something for Mr. Chattman, apparently his migraines have come back.” Martin flipped through the worn pages until he found whatever he was looking for. “This tea blend worked last time.”

Jon hadn’t considered tea as a remedy, but it made sense now that he thought about it. So many medicines were made from various combinations of herbs, as were many teas. He watched as Martin gathered different glass jars from the shelves, as well as a set of scales and a mortar. “It’s not a complicated recipe: chamomile flowers, ginger root, lemon balm, feverfew, passionflower, and skullcap.” He measured the different herbs out with care, although Jon only recognized the names of half of them. Skullcap? That sounded more like a poison than anything else. “Is it weird I really like making herbal tea blends? More than the other stuff I get really happy if people can actually enjoy what I make for them. With potions and syrups they often don’t taste very good, but a good cup of tea? I think it heals in more ways than people expect.”

_ “I doubt it can break curses.” _ Jon squeaked. He was fascinated by what Martin was doing, but he was a hands-on type of learner. He’d much prefer to be doing things himself rather than watching. Still, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do, and if there was some potion that could help him? Well, it didn’t hurt to be living with an apothecary for the near future.

“Right, simple enough.” Martin finished by pouring the finished tea blend into an empty jar before returning to the book. “Let’s see what’s next.”

* * *

Jon wished for the hundredth time that Martin could understand him. Over the past few days, he’d learned that apothecary work required a certain amount of concentration, using the proper amounts of the proper ingredients in the proper order. It required infusing said ingredients with a small amount of magic to enhance their properties. It was not something most people could do half-asleep. From the way that Martin kept yawning and rubbing his eyes every few minutes, it was clear that he was in no fit state to be doing anything apart from going to bed. However, Jon had no way of telling Martin to get some sleep. As a moth the only noises he could make were squeaks, none of which seemed to get the message across.

With another yawn Martin squinted at the book in front of him, his gaze unfocused. The recipe had been written in an elegant script, an herbal tea blend to cure a cold, and while it wasn’t a particularly complex task it still required the ingredients to be measured correctly. With how badly Martin’s hands were shaking Jon felt justified in his concern. It was purely from a professional standpoint though, that was all. If the tea was made wrong then the recipient could get sick, which would be bad for Martin’s reputation. Not that Jon actually cared about Martin’s reputation, he didn’t, but it would still be bad.

As Martin reached for the next ingredient Jon realized just how tired he was. Instead of grabbing the dried yarrow, he was now measuring out oregano. While oregano did have healing properties, it did help with sore throats, it was not a good substitute for yarrow and would definitely mess up the tea. It also wasn’t likely to go well with licorice and peppermint.

With a squeak, Jon tried to get Martin’s attention. No luck. Martin merely yawned again and moved to pour the oregano into the mixing bowl. In a last-ditch effort, Jon flapped his wings and rose off the stack of books he’d been perched upon. He still hadn’t gotten the hang of flying in his new moth body, or moving if he was completely honest. The extra limbs were hard enough to get used to without adding wings into the mix. 

Merely gliding from the books to Martin’s hand was more challenging than Jon had expected, he’d had to flutter his wings at the last second to avoid smacking into the measuring cup. It was enough to draw the man’s gaze though, which was a relief. Martin stopped moving and stared at the moth now perched upon his index finger. 

“Oh, hello there.” Martin gave a tired grin and yawned once again. “Come to get a closer look?”

_ No. _ Jon thought, somewhat frustrated.  _ “I’m here to stop you from making a big mistake.” _ He squeaked again, louder this time, and flapped his wings in a feeble effort to move Martin’s hand away from the bowl. Realizing that this was a pointless task Jon switched tactics and glided to the open jar of oregano Martin had been using. He squeaked once more.

“Be careful!” Martin’s voice was more concerned than anything else, but his gaze was still fixed on Jon. “Don’t fall in the ya-” He blinked a few times and rubbed at his eyes. “Oh, that’s not yarrow.”

Jon wanted to sigh with relief. It had worked. Despite the fact that he couldn’t speak as a moth he’d still managed to communicate with Martin. 

“Were- Were you trying to tell me?” Martin asked, dumping the oregano back into the jar before scooping Jon up in both hands. “Did you know I had the wrong herb?” 

Jon squeaked in response.  _ “Yes, and you should go to bed before you make more mistakes.” _

“Can you understand me?”

Another squeak.  _ “No, I’m a perfectly ordinary moth. Can’t you tell by everything about me?” _

For a moment Martin just stared at Jon, he still looked tired but he seemed to be realizing just how unusual the moth he’d saved was. “Are you my familiar?”

Oh. Ohhhh. Martin thought that Jon was... Oh this couldn’t end well.

**Author's Note:**

> That’s it for chapter one! I’ll do my best to update soon! If you want more from this au check out the oneshot or go to my tumblr [here](https://artificialdaydreamer.tumblr.com//) to see a few drabbles I wrote from requests!


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